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PLUNKETT 
The  Mineral! 


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FRENCH'S     STANDARD     DRAMA. 

No.   CLIL 


THE  MINERALI: 


OR, 


THE     DYINa     aiU'T. 

A 

ROMAN  T.IC     DRAMA, 

IN     TWO      ACTS. 
BT 

HENRY    GRATTAN   PLUNKETT, 

Author  of  "  2'Ae  Corsair^s  Reveyigc"  ''  Crime  and  Repentance,   or  the 

Drunkard's  Warning"  "■Diana's  Revenge,''^  '■'^ Joe  Miller i^ 

"  Faust"  cjc. 

TO   WHICH    ARE    ADDED, 

A  Description  of   the  Costume — Cast  of   the  Characters — Entrances   and  |Exits— 

Relative  Positions  of  the  Performers  on  the  Stage,  and  the  whole  of  the 

Stage  Business. 

AS   PERFORMED    AT    THE    LONDON    AND    AMERICAN    THEATRES. 

NEW-YORK : 
SAMUEL     FRENCH, 

122  Nassau-St.— Up  Stairs, 


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©ostumcs.— (The  Minerau.) 


MARTELLT.— Broad  red  striped  shirt,  broad  black  and  red  braces, 
skin  cloak,  black  trunks,  flesh  arms  and  legs,  buff  lace  boots,  belt  and 
pouch. 

FRANCISCO. — The  same  description  of  dress,  but  lighter  and  bet- 
ter, with  buff  strap  shoes. 

MARCO  AND  ANTONIO. -As  above,  but  different  colors,  and 
much  worn. 

NICOLO.— Old  man's  handsome  gray  and  black  shape,  buff  shoes, 
red  rosettes,  red  stockings. 

BARTOLO.— Old  man's  brown  shape,  blue  rosettes,  blue  stockings. 

RICARDO.— Handsome  light  blue  shape,  white  silk  stockincrs, 
white  shoes.  ° 

PIETRO. — White  and  red  comic  shape,  striped  stockings,  buff  shoes, 
rosettes. 

LEILA. — Black  boddice.  blue  shaped  petticoat,  blue  stockimrs,  blacl« 
shoes,  buckles.  Second,  White  bridal  dress.  Third,  The  same  as  the 
first. 

ANNETTE. — Handsome  peasant's  dress  of  the  .same  description. 


The  Minerau  (who  are  the  principal  persons  in  this  drama)  are  a 
set  of  men  who  gain  a  precarious  existence  by  searching  for  gold  in  the 
niountains,^  and  are  looked  upon  in  no  very  favorable  lio-ht  by  their  more 
prudent  neighbors,  the  farmers  of  the  surrounding  valley. 


THE  MINEHALI. 


ACT.  I. 

SCENK  l.-Thc  Valley  Of  An.asca.Co,tage  -^-f^^'^^  J""''^*'  ^"^^^'^ 
by  dislanl  view  of  a  Village.     I  ime  bunnse. 

Enlet  Francisco. 

Fran    "When  the  first  beam  of  the  warm   sun  gilds  the  mountain's 

;tu'Tj;rir:tr.rai'  :i.  :t  W.^  no .,,.  of„,;>.ved  Le»a, 

LrirXtS^mu^t  you  wail'     Nay   a„,we,  „o. !     She  «ho 

wMchmy  eaie,  feel  hath  flown  along  the  path  .hat  lead,  to  thee 

Lei.   So  thou  hast  ever  said. 
Fran    And  dost  thou  doubt  me  1 

Lei.  Am  I  not  Acre?  what  need  of  further  answer 

Mvi«    None— none,  my  own  fair  girl  ;  but  thy  letter- 

/irSoeaks  of  nee;ssi  V  to   see  thee  !     Since   the   first  happy  hour 

in  wMcKe  met  "hLe  much  wished   to   speak  to  thee  on  what  cor^. 

cerns  us  iLh  •  no-no,  I  mean  not  that,  but  what  affects  7ne  closely 
Fran    aS  has  my  heart  been  so  misjudged   by  thine,  that  thou  dost 

't.l\7a5n^Taf  ?m-here!     Thou  hast  ever   said,  thou  will  be 
present  at  my  bridal  day. 

Fran.   Aye  !   and  on  it  call  thee  mine 

Lei.  Hold! 

Frayi.   1  swear 

Lei    I  have  believed  thy  oath  too  often. 

£rYo?worf;'"„r™  a  p,on,i.o,  pe,h.p.  a  willing  one,  that  .honl. 
occasion-cause  thy  absence  (as  it  hath  often  strangely  done.)-"  "«!>• 


THE    MIKERALI.  O 

line  written  by  my  hand,  and  left  in  the  thin  cleft  of  yonder  rock,  would 
safely  reach,  and  brinjj  thee  to  me. 

Fran.  And  have  I  failed  1 

Lei.  Now,  thou  hast  not  ;  but  one  that  loved  would  scarce  neglect  a 
first  request,  or  let  a  week  elapse. 

Fran.  Leila,  but  yesternight,  I  found  thy  note. 

Lei.  Indeed  ! 

F'ran.  As  I  do  live  ! 

Lei.  [Quickhj.]  I  do  believe  you.  But 'tis  strange — Eight  days  have 
passed,  since  in  that  place  a  written  wish  I  left  to  meet  you  here  ;  you 
came  not — and  my  heart  grew  sick,  as  day  by  day  I  watched  ;  'till 
weary  thus  of  living  upon  hope,  which  still  did  grow  the  fainter — love 
overswaved  all  that  was  due  to  pride,  I — 1  wrote  again. 

Fran.  Dearest  Leila  !  morn  and  eve,  I  toiled  to  reach  the  place.  The 
miser  who  has  buried  heart  and  gold  in  one  lone  spot,  and  lives  but 
while  he  -sees  his  treasure  safe,  did  never  seek  with  scrutinizing  eye, 
Keen  made  by  hope  and  fear,  the  darling  covert  of  his  earth  hid  idol, 
as  I  have  watched  for  print  of  thy  small  tiny  foot,  where  my  heart  longed 
to  find  it. 

Eci.  Again  I  say,  I  do  believe  thee — but  that  letter  ? 

Fran.  Nay,  fear  not,  1  will  seek  for  it.  But  thy  urgent  wish  to  see 
me  now. 

Lei.  They  have  fixed  a  day  for  mv  betrothal ! 

Fran.  And  that  day  1 

Lei.  To-morrow  ! 

Fran.  What  ill  chance  kept  thy  letter  from  me,  this  indeed  is  sudden.. 

Lei.  Alas  !  it  is. 

Fran.  And  they  would  have  thee  marry  one,  whom  well  they  know 
tb'/U  lov'st  not ! 

Lei.  Even  so  ;  though  he  hath  been  my  playmate  from  my  childhood 
I  love  him  not.  I  loved  him  not,  when  othsrs  were  not  by,  and  now  I 
only  hope  I  hate  him  not. 

Fran.  Still  should'st  thou  be  betrothed  to-morrow,  twelve  months  (so 
custom  wills  it.)  must  have  passed,  ere  thou  canst  wed  ;  there's  hope 
in  that. 

Lei.  [Firmly^  None  !  do  not  deceive  thyself,  or  misjudge  me  :  once 
bethrothed,  I  bring  no  shame  on  those  who  gave  me  life,  and  if  I  find 
not  peace  in  the  calm  grave,  ere  those  twelve  months  of  misery  are  past, 
the  world  shall  see  me  at  the  altar's  foot,  and  greet  me  as  his  bride  as 
one  whose  heart  would  break,  ere  she  would  break  her  faith  ! 

\^Cros.'<es  to  t.  h. 

Fran.  To-morrow,  Leila,  before  the  assembled  crowds,  I  claim  thy 
hand,  and  I  rejoice  to  find  thou  hast  so  firm  a  soul  I  But  Leila,  do  not 
let  me  think  I  have  entrapped  thy  heart.  Once  more,  listen  to  what  I 
have  ever  freely  owned, — nor  hiirh,  nor  wealthy  am  I,  but  one  on 
whom  the  world  hath  frowned — I  have  no  love  to  offer  thee,  save  my 
own,  but  thou  wilt  be  my  heart's  fair  idol.  I  have  no  friend  to  bless 
thee,  save  one,  and  blood  unites  u.s  not  ;  but  he  hath  a  rough  kind 
heart,  a'  d  though  not  sick  of  life,  would  part  with  it  for  one  I  prize.  I 
seek  not  wealth  with  thee,  while  I  have  health  and  strength,  we  ne'er 


"6  THK    MINERALI. 

shall  want ;  and  they  are  poor  philosophers,  who  not  content  with 
present  joy,  must  dive  into  the  future  to  search  tor  visionary  clouds  to 
shade  their  bliss — wilt  take  me  as  I  am  !     Say,  shall  I  come  Lo-morrow '? 

Lei.  Come ! 

Fran.  As  sure  as  dawn. 

Lei.  And  thy  name  ? 

Fran.  [Embracing  her."]  To-morrow,  thou  shalt  know  all. 

Lei.  'Till  then,  farewell  !  and  then 

Fran.   We  part  no  more  !  \^Music. 

Lei.  Remember  !  [Exit  into  cottage. 

Fran.  Fear  not !  [Exit.  2  e.  l.  h. 

Scene  II. — A  lofty  ridge  of  Mountains. 

Martelli  discovered  seated  on  a  piece  of  rock,  reading  earnestly,  rises 
and  comes  forioard. 

Mar.  Fair  lines !  and  fairly  written — I  have  conned  them  o'er  so  oft, 
that  now  they're  firmly  graved  upon  my  heart :  curses  on  the  angry 
wind,  and  the  steeped  mountain's  rugged  sides,  but  for  the  fallen  pines 
that  crossed  my  path,  I  had  been  true  to  the  very  minute  at  the  spot 
directed  here,  then  had  I  solved  ail  doubt  and  known  my  fate,  for  years 
I  have  hovered  round  each  verdant  spot  she  blesses  with  her  presence. — • 
Oft  have  we  met,  and  once,  but  for  this  arm,  the  rolling  flood  had 
snatched  her  to  its  cold  cheerless  bed!  And  can  it  be,  she  loves  me  ! 
no,  no  :  and  yet  this  letter,  undirected,  left  in  a  spot,  where  I  have  ever 
kept  my  vigils,  a  spot,  where  not  a  foot,  save  of  the  minerali — Ha!  that 
word  blights  every  hope,  did  she  love  me,  beyond  my  wildest  wishes, 
would  she — dare  she  wed  an  outcast  gold  seeker  1  share  the  exulting 
scorn  and  cold  reproaches  of  the  herd  around  him  1  there's  madness  in 
the  thought.  [Takes  some  pieces  of  ore  from  his  girdle,  atid  throws  them 
violently  dowii.^     Thou  sallow  dross,  I'll  drudge  for  thee  no  more. 

Enter  Francisco,  l.  h.     As  he  throxcs  it  doxcn,   Martelli  conceals  the 
letter  in  his  bosom  and  seats  himself. 

Fran.  How  now,  Martelli,  once  more  in  thy  moody  fit,  cheer  up  man, 
look- at  the  bright  sun,  and  cheer  thee — breathe  the  sweet  freshness  of 

the  morning  air,  and  bless  the  day 

[  Throws  off  his  cloak,  and  takes  a  pick-axe. 

Mar.  What  would  you  1 

Fran,  Try  and  force  some  of  the  gold  thou  railast  at,  out  of  this  flinty 
rock,  where  now  it  lies  as  in  yon  grasping  miser's  chest,  useless  to 
others  and  himself. 

Mar.  Francisco,  I  have  marked  thee — closely  marked  thee  boy  of 
late — thy  wild  and  daring  spirit  hath  ta'en  the  start,  even  of  itself,  thy 
jocund  lauiih  is  ever  heard.  But  strange  it  is  that  thou  should'st  shur 
the  sports,  once  over  closely  courted,  and  ever  with  incessant  toil  goad 
the  mountains'  steep  seeking  for  gold. 

Fran.   I  have  a  reason,  good  Martelli. 

3far.   And  one  thou  fain  would'st  hide  from  me  1 


THE    MINERALI.  7 

Fran.  In  good  faith,  no  !  is  is — I  almost  blush,  yet  know  not  where- 
fore. vhilt>  I  own  it — Psha  !   I'm  in  love,  and  would  be  rich. 

Mar.  Thou  lovest ! 

Fra7i.  By  St.  Francis  do  I — now  the  murder's  out. 

Mar.  And  whom  ! 

Fran.  Thou  soon  shalt  know  her  as  my  bride  ;  till  then  I  leave  thy 
fancy  on  the  stretch. 

3Iar.  Poor  youth ! 

Fran.   I  look'd  for  gratulation,  not  condolence. 

Mar.  Francisco,  knowest  thou  what  thou  art  ■ 

I'ran.  Like  thyself,  I  am  a  niinerali  !  ^ 

M(ir.  Thou  art.  and  there's  the  curse. — Who,  who  is  it  thou  dost  love, 
I  do  not  wish  to  know  by  name — Is  it  one  beneath  thee? 

Frail.  Beneath!  Martelli  thou  dost  remember  when  my  first  helpless 
years  of  infancy  were  passed,  and  I  could  watch  thee  scale  mountains' 
sides,  to  dig  for  what  seemed  then  of  far  less  value  than  my  infant  toys  ; 
thou  didst  explain  unto  my  childish  mind,  the  worth  of  this  same  ore — 
I  watched  thee  day  by  day,  though  young,  my  limbs  were  vigorous  be- 
yond my  years,  there  was  a  tall  and  dizzy  steep  through  which  thou 
didst  conjecture  such  rich  gold  ran  as  would  repay  the  toil,  could  but 
the  way  be  mastered,  and  the  summit  reached. — Hanging  midw.ay  be- 
tween its  base  and  crown,  with  every  sinew  straining  its  full  strength 
upon  the  morn,  you  saw  me  clambering  that  fearful  heioht,  the  bright  sun 
flashed  in  my  aching  eyes,  still  I  kept  my  course,  the  winds  shook  me 
with  their  breath,  onward  I  went — in  brief,  the  first  return  I  ever  made 
for  all  thy  care  and  nurture,  was  the  gold  I  won  from  that  bold  stet^j. 

3far.  It  was  a  fearful  task,  and  bravely  done — but  what  is  this  unto 
our  present  purpose? 

Fran.  As  upward  then  I  looked,  so  do  I  now — as  danger  then  I 
scorned,  so  do  I  now. 

Mar.  Boy,  boy  it  grieves  my  soul  to  damp  thy  hopes — but  listen  to 
me,  when  first  I  started  into  life,  flattered  with  the  hope  of  wealth, 
lured  by  the  freedom  of  the  scene,  thinking  to  breathe  the  mountain  air, 
and  share  the  wild  birds'  liberty,  scorning  the  shackles  of  the  herding 
crew  who  surfeit  the  close  town,  and  drag  through  life  in  one  unchang- 
ing round  of  sameness,  willingly  I  followed  the  free  trade  of  those  with 
whom  my  youth  was  spent.  Brief  time  had  passed  ere  {  coukl  see 
that  in  the  fancied  greatness  of  some  plodding  fool  I  was  despised — I 
cared  not  then,  my  heart  was  young  and  bold,  scorn  I  repaid  with  scorn, 
insult  received  unsparing  chastisement  from  my  daring  hand — onward  I 
went  in  the  free  course  my  youth  had  chosen.  But  years  did  bring  me 
wisdom  ;  I  will  not  blind  the  truth  ;  I  was,  and  am  despised. 
Fran.   And  wherefore  ! 

Mar.  Ay,  and  wherefore?  I  know  not,  save  because  I  was  an  honest 
man — had  1,  like  some  of  them,  piled  up  my  heaps  with  the  cold- 
blooded L'rasp  of  the  keen  usurer,  wrung  tl>e  very  means  of  life,  and  so 
the  life  itself  from  the  oppressed  and  starving  wretches  power  placed 
witliin  my  toils  ,  had  a  heart's  drop  flowed  for  each  accursed  coin  tho 
beggared  gamester  added  to  my  heap,  not  even  the  life,  in  desperation 
wrested  from  himself,  with  his  own  maddened  hand,  would  have  cried 


9  THE    MINERALI. 

shame  upon  me,  though  I  had  been  the  black  and  damned  cause  ot 
the  unholy  deed.  [Crosses  lo  l.  h.]  No — so  I  could  thrive,  men's  ser- 
vile knees  would  have  b(>nt  low  to  my  inci  easing  Jieaps — I  should  have 
been  lauded,  worshipped.  But  for  that  with  the  limbs  that  nature  gave 
me,  with  honest  strength  I  grappled  with  the  ru<rged  cliti's  and  forced 
the  gold  from  its  deep  grave  into  the  li\ing  light — I  am  an  outcast  and 
a  vagabond — I  am  — I  am,  and  so  art  thou. 

Fran.   An  outcast ! 

Mar.  Even  so,  years  of  scorn  have  taught  me,  that  in  such  light 
alone,  our  race  is  looked  upon — now  mark  me,  if  thou  would'st  not 
court  the  veriest  contumely,  give  up  the  thoughts  of  wedding  one  by 
fortune  placed  above  thee. 

Fran.  Never,  by  our  holy  mother.  To-morrow  will  I  claim  her  hand. 

Mar.  Her  friends  are  rich  1 

Fran.  They  are. 

Mar.  Then  be  advised,  nor  take  thy  dagger  with  thee. 

Fran.  And  wherefore  not  ^ 

Mar.  I  know  the  sudden  outbreaks  of  thy  fiery  temper,  and  would 
not  have  thee  quit  the  roof  a  murderer. 

Fran.  [Throws  down  his  dagger.^  1  thank  thee  for  thy  counsel- 
there — farewell. 

Mar.  Your  hand  [TaJ:es  Francisco's  hand]  Heaven  speed  you,  boy 
— f:irewell.  [Exit  f'lUNCisco,  r.  3  e.  h. — Mnsir..'^  Whither  am  I  going  1 
Oh  I  I  have  schooled  Francisco  well ;  have  warned  him,  while  I  find  my 
own  steps  bend  towards  Leila's  house — come  \vhat  may,  once  more  I'll 
see  her.  [Exit  1  e.  l,  h. 

Scene  HI. — A  Saloon  decorated  with  Garlands,  cf-c. 
Enter  Pietro,  and  Annette,  2  e.  k.  h. 

Pie.  Why  didn't  you  say  so  before  1 

Ann.   That's  what  you  always  say. 

Fie.  And  with  reason,  I  think  ;  arn't  you  always  behind  hand  with 
■what's  most  important !  Though  you're  always  talking,  do  you  ever 
speak  in  time — isn't  it?  "1  wish  I  had  done  so  and  so  yesterday,  or 
yesterday  month,  or  yesterday  twelvemonth." 

Ann.   But  I  didn't  like  to  speak. 

Vic.  Why  didn't  you  say  so,  before  1  Bless  you,  I'm  not  cruel!  ha<3 
I  known  how  anxious  you  were  to  be  betrothed  at  the  same  time  with 
Leila,  I'd  have  made  you  the  most  disinterested  offer  myself;  however, 
as  it  is,  if  tliis  day  month  will  suit  you.  as  I  think  the  sooner  one  meets 
an  evil  the  better,  why  I'm  your  man. 

Enter  Servant,  c.  arch. 

Servant.  Pietro  !  haste — haste,  the  bride  and   bridegroom  are  coming 
— you'll  liiive  scarcely  time  to  hnng  up  the  garlands. 
Pu.   Why,  didn't  you  say  so,  before! 
[Pietro  places   a   table   under  the  centre  arch — as  he  jumps  on  it,  j< 

falls,  and  throws  him  down  full  length. 
Ann.  There,  Pietro,  I  knew  it  wouldn't  bear  you. 


THE   MINKRALI.  V 

Pie.  Why,   the  devil  didn't  you  say  so   before?  where's  the  good  of 

telling  me  now  !   here,  have  I  bruised   my  shins,  'till  they  look  like 

Servant.   [  Without.]   Way,  for  the  bride,  and  bridegroom  ! 

Pie.   \_Ruhbing  his  shins.]  The  happiest  couple  in  the  world  !   \^Music. 

Enter  Leila,  Baktolo,  Nicolo,  Hicarvo.  follou-ed  L>/  numerous  guests, 
male  and  female,  c. 

Bar.  (i,.  H.)  My  fair  girl,  they  mother's  second  self,  this  day  gives 
thee  to  another  guardian  ;  ond  though  the  choice  hath  taxed  thy  father's 
jealous  care,  'tis  hard  to  part  wiih  one  without  a  tear,  who's  first  re- 
membered smile  warms  an  old  man's  doting  heart  !  Ricardo,  take  my 
daughter!  [Ric.  crosses  to  c]  And  think  that  thou  dost  rule  her,  and 
her  father's  joys. 

Ric.  (r.  c.)  If  by  my  love  I  can  secure  the  maid  a  life  unscathed  by 
care,  doubly  I  heap  my  own  fair  hopes  of  happiness. 

Lei.   {Gazuig  inlcndly  rouwl.]  Not  here  ]   Could  he  have  mocked  me  1 

Ric.  Maiden,  thy  hand. 

hei.  [^Drawing  back.]  Comes  he  not  1 

Bar.  Why  pause  you,  daughter? 

Ric.  Maiden,  I  ask  thy  hand. 

Lei,   [Aside^]   He  hath  deceived  me. 

Bar.  What  speak  you  ! 

Lei.  Nought,  father,  nought. 

Ric.  Again,  I  ask  thy  hand,  in  proof  that  thou  dost  plight  thy  free 
and  willing  troth. 

Lei.  [Axide.]  All  hope  is  past!  [Goes  slouly  towards  Hic,  as  she  is 
about  to  give  her  hand,  she  suddenly  returns,  and  ihroios  herself  into  her 
father'' s  arms  overcome  by  her  feelings.]     Father  ! 

Nic.  (r.  h  )  What  means  the  maid  ! 

Bar.  'Tis  but  her  girlish  fear  ;  she  is  unused  to  meet  with  many. 
and  doth  but  blush  to  own  her  young  heart's  love — but  in  her  name  I 
speak. 

Nic.  It  may  not  be — the  contract  is  not  binding,  unless  by  free  con- 
sent, with  her  own  lips  certified. 

Bar.  I  knew  not  that  thou  wa'st  so  strict  a  formalist. 

Aic.  'Tis  for  my  nephew's  good. 

Ric.  He  is  right! 

Bar.  Then  Leila,  speak  for  thyself! 

[Leii.a  looks  anxiously  round — pauses — advances  a  few  steps  as  if 
undetermined  how  to  act. 

Nic    f  Crosses  lo  c  ]   'Tis  but  one  word,  come  speak  it  maiden. 

Bar.  Aye,  speak  it  maiden. 

Fran.  [  Without,  c]  Speak  it  not,  dearest  Leila. 

Lei.   [With  a  faint  scream.]   Hah!   'lis  he  !   'tis  he  1 

^n/c7- Fkancisco,  c.  d.,  catches  her  in  his  arms,  //ic  Guests  all  stand 
snrpiised. 

Fran.  Leila,  dearest  Leila — calm  thee,  calm  thee,  how  thy  heart 
beats,  did'st  thou,  would'st  tliou  think  if  I  had  life,  my  plighted  failti 
niight  be  neglected. 

1* 


10  THE    MINERALI. 

Nic.   ,_To  Bart]  Know  you  the  youth  1 

£a> .  Till  now  we  never  met. 

Nic    [Sarcaslicall.i/.]  Your  daunrhter  hath  been  well  'tended,  sir. 

Bar.  Why  do  you  cling  around  tiiis  stranger,  girH  [Takes  h%in 
from  him  and  puis  her  l.  h.]  Young  man.  what  would  you  here,  that 
thus  despite  of  courtesy,  you  rudely  rush  midst  sought  and  valued 
guests,  making  your  boldness,  not  our  loves,  give  welcome  to  you  1 

Fran.  I  had  brief  time  to  stand  on  form,  good  signor,  and  as  'twixt  us 
few  words  will  be  most  welcome,  for  that  suspense  has  never  yet  been 
cherished,  I  humbly  come  to  crave  your  daughter's  hand. 

JVic.   [and  all  the  Guests.]     You  ! 

Pic.   [Aside  to  Annette,  l.  h.  2  e.]  Why  didn't  he  say  so  before  1 

Fran.   Aye,  I  !   see  ye  aught  strange  in  that,  that  thus  ye  start  ? 

Bar.  The  maidi'n  is  betrothed.* 

Fran.   She  is  to  me. 

Nic.  To  thee  1  no  marvel  that  she  faultered  then,  when  asked  to 
speak. 

Bar.  [To  Leil.k.]  Know'st  thou  this  youth  1 

Lei.   [Fallennij^.^  I  do. 

Kic.  And  would'stthou  wed  him  1 

Lei.  I,  with  my  iather's 

Fran.  She  would. 

Bar.  Art  mad  !    • 

Nic.  [Sarcas/icalli/  to  B.^rtolc]  Signor  Bartolo  thou  art  called  dn 
honest  man,  and  our  district  chronicles  do  so  report  thy  father's  father 
I  give  thee  joy. 

Bar.  What  mean  you  1 

Nic.   I  do  congratulate  you  on  your  son  Francisco,  the  Mineralo. 
[All  Ike  guests  start,  and  exclaim  The  Mini;r.\lo  ! — Leil.\   half 
drawn  from  him. 

Ric    [Drawino-  his  dagger.]  Crossed  by  a  hound  like  this  !     Villain  ! 

[RicARno  springs  toioards  Francisco,  who  throws  down  his  cloak 

and  folds  his  arms — the  Guests  cry  "  Down  with  him.''     As  Ri- 

CARDO  is   about   to  close,    Leila  throws  herself  upon  her   knees 

between  them 

Lei.  Spare  him — for  my  sake  spare  him. 

Fyan.  f2'o  Leila]  Plead  not  for  me,  maiden.  [To  Ricardo.]  Armed 
as  thou  art.  could  thy  cold  blood  but  make  thee  dare  the  mountain's 
steep,  I'd  hurl  thee  hissing  to  its  base. 

Ric.  Threat'st  thou  \  outcast  I 

Fran.  Thy  tongue  doth  wtll,  to  move  beyond  my  reach. 

Lei.  Dearest  Francisco,  peace. 

Bar.  Speak  not  to  him,  girl — hear  you  not  he  is  a  Mineralo  ?  Spurn 
him  as  you  would  the  venomed  adder. 

Lei.  Never  !  If  there  be  blame,  let  it  fall  on  me.  Honor  hath 
marked  his  every  word  and  action,  though  love — yes,  I  own  it — love 
did  blind  my  eyes  to  aught  that  look'd  like  danger,  and  perhaps  o'er- 
swayed  my  duty  ;    still  I  alone  should  meet  your  censure. 

Bar.   Leila,  wilt  thou  break  thy  father's  heart  !  [Passes  her  to  i.. 

Fran.  Old  man.  albeit  I  do  love  thy  daughter  more  than  life,  I  would 


THE    MINERAL!.  11 

not  have  one  tear  herald  tlie  bitter  mournings  of  thy  throbbinjT  heart,  I 
ciiiikl  nut  lay  my  heail  upon  the  pillow  that  still  has  itniu^ht  me  placid 
sleep,  bartereJ  even  for  my  soul's  foiiJ  hopes.  W  I  do  wed  thy  daugh- 
ter, thou  sJKilt  not  curse  her  nor  me. 

Nic.  [To  FuAXCisco.]  J  am  a  man  of  peace,  and  like  not  brawls.  In 
.plain  terui.s,  my  nephew  comes  not  wooing  with  an  empty  hand.  Three 
thousand  ducats  do  I  hold  for  him,  on  the  wcdditiif  day  to  be  paid 
down.  How  say'st  thou — can'st  thou  follow  me  the  sum  !  If  so,  thy 
right  is  equal,  and  the  maid's  voice  shall  name  lier  husband. 

Fran.  Thou  know'st  the  tithe  of  it  would  beggar  me  a  hundred 
times. 

Nic.  I  knew  it  not,  but  guessed  as  much  ;  say  the  betrothal  takes  not 
place  to-day — darest  thou  hope,  in  the  succeeding  year,  to  come  prepared 
to  pay  the  money  down? 

Fran    Give  me  time,  and  let  me  try. 

Nic.  Signor  Bartolo — I,  for  my  nephew,  do  consent,  and  here  give 
up  all  claim  to  thy  fiir  daughter's  hand,  if  the  term  e.xpired.  the  iOne- 
ralo  having  the  gold  amassed,  do  hold  his  purpose — remembering  ever, 
should  he  fail,  1  hold  the  maiden  bound,  and  trust  her  sense  will  prompt 
her  to  comply  witli  willingness. 

Fran  She  will,  I  answer  for  her — old  Signor,  thy  offer's  fair  and 
honest — I  thank  you  for't,  and  here  pled^je  I  my  word  for  the  last  time 
— upon  her  bridal  day,  we  meet,  or  part  for  life. 

Bar.  Thou  hast  brought  shame  ou  me  and  mine,  young  man,  by  thy 
this  day's  proceeding — hut  as  the  fault,  and  its  proud  showing,  have  by 
the  maid  been  nur.^ed.  I  must  e'en  say  content  for  her,  if  not  myself. 

R'C.  [  Who  has  been  iaiki/'g  apart  with  Nicoi.o]  I  too  must  force  my 
lips  to  .'^ay  '•  content,"   but  we  shall  mpet  auain. 

Fran.  And  if  we  do,  let  me  advise  (t!iy  late  rash  taunts  being  now 
forgiven)  thou'lt  teach  thy  tongue  some  gentler  phrase,  that  we  may 
meet,  if  not  as  friends — at  least  with  coolness. 

Ric.   Dost  threaten  ! 

Fran.  No,  but' in  kindness  warn,  for  if  we  meet  as  foes 

Ric.  What  then  \ 

Fran.  My  bridal  day  may  come  vs'ithout  a  rival. 

JLei.   ^Reproach/ u/li/.]   Francisco  1 

Fran.   Li'ila.  I've  done. 

Jiic.  Look — should  we  meet 

Nic.  Peace,  nephew  I  Well  have  no  further  brawling,  youth,  go 
thy  ways,  ami  learn  respect  for  years.  [Cro.fses  to  him.]  Signor  Bartolo 
take  thy  daughter  in.  Maiden,  reflect,  and  curb  thy  love  with  reason. 
Nephew,  along  with  me — fear  not,  the  bridal  banquet  will  be  spread 
for  thee. 

Bar  I  will  not  ask  pardon  for  what  I  could  not  help.  When  next 
we  meet,  may  it  be  happily.      Farewell  to  all. 

[Ric.^RDO  offers  Leila  his  hand — she  shrinks  from  him,  and  gives  it 
to  her  Father — a.sr  they  go  out,  she  pauses  at  door,  and  looking 
at  Francisco,  exclaims 

L,ei.  Fortune  speed  thee. 


THE    MINERALI. 


12 


Fran.  Fear  not,  Leila— love  hath  ncrveil  my  frame,  I'll  dig  the  centre, 
but  I'll  buv  thv  hand  -now  to  the  mountains,  to  wm  the  price  oflife. 

•'      ^  [Music— £xtt,  c. 

Fie    [Peeping  in  over  ANSKTTK'fi  shmthkr]  Is  he  q;one1 

Ann  Why  didn't  you  say  so  before  ?  St.  Peter !  here's  a  piece  of  work. 
Lord,  lord,  what  a  young  firebrand  it  is,  by  the  mass  I  woukiu  t  bathe 
with  him  for  fifty  ducats  :  how  the  water  would  boil  and  hiss  !  powder 
is  an  icicle  to  his  hot  blood— didst  see  him  threaten  Signor  llicardo  ] 

Ann    I  did,  Pietio.  but  who  are  the  Mineralil 

Fif..  Why.  have  you  never  heard  before!  Lord  bless  you,  they  re 
little  better  than  robbers  and  slabbers. 

^nw.  I  thought  they  lived  by  finding  gold.  •      t    u     1 1 1 

Fie  So  they  do,  but  there  are  strange  ways  of  findmg  it.  1  should  be 
sorry  to  meet  'one  of  "em  with  hriglu  ducats  in  my  possession,  for  he 
mi'Mit  quite  accidentally  mistake  my  pocket  for  a  gold  mine,  and 
imaaine  the  shortest  cut'toit,  would  be  by  performing  that  ceremony  on 
my  throat.  Certain  it  is  that  many  a  coined  piece,  has  come  from  their 
graspimr  hands,  that' never  met  the  eyes  in  its  pristine  shape  ;  many  a 
rascal  is  rich  this  moment,  that  was  a  beggar  the  one  before. 

Ann.   Psiiaw  !  ,         i  .   .1    .   t    -i 

Fie.  Pshaw  if  you  please!  but  who  would   have   thought  that  Leila 

didn't  love  her  lover  ? 

Ann.  Whv,  I  did  „       ,   .  ,  ,    ,.   .        . 

Fic.  You  did,  why  didn't  you  say  so  before  !  it's  my  behef  you  re  a 
cruel  unnatural  couple.  ,  ,  •  1        t) 

Ann  For  shame,  Pietro,  I  tell  you  1  don't  blame  her  neither,  1  m 
sure,  though  Signor  llicardo  gave  me  a  ring,  not  ior  tins  finger  though 
—[PoinU  to  the  wedding  fimjer.\Y ex.  I  mu^t  say  the  Mineralo  is 

Pie.  A  wild  cat,  all  hair  and  claws. 

Ann.  A  very  fine  young  man. 

Pic.  You  never  heard  any  body  say  so  before. 

Ann.  O  yes,  I  have. 

Fic.   It's  a  li— bel  upon  fact — who  have  you  heard  T 

Ann.  Why  a  great  many  people  you  don't  know. 

Fic.  No,  nor  vou  either.  t^     •  1 

Ann.  Yes  I  do,  though,  only  I've  forgotten  them.  Besides,  do  you 
know  their  ballads  1 

Pj>.   ]\-o,— bow  should  I !     I  never  heard  they  had  ?ny  before. 

Ann.  Ye:i,  dozens,  siiall  I  sing  you  one  ! 

Pie.   I'd  as  lief  you  pinched  a  pig's  tail  at  my  ear  in  my  first  sleep. 

Ann.  But  I  imll  sing  it.  ,   ■    . 

Fie.  You  will,  why  didn't  you  say  so  before?  then  you  needn  t  have 
asked  ;  for  if  you  will,  the  devil  couldn't  stop  you. 

Ann.  Listen. 

Fie.  iPutling  his  cap  down  or,cr  his  eyes  ]    Yes. 

SoNOi — ANNiiTTE.   [Introduced.] 
As  the  song  concludes;  Martelli  appear.^  at  the  c.  o.     Annette  sees  him, 
and  screams. 
Pie    [Raising  the  cap.]  I  never  heard  such  a  note  as  that  before 


THE    MINERAL!,  13 

Ann.  {Pointing  to  Martelli.]  Pietro,  locrlc  there — there's  the • 

Pie.  [.S«ei/i^  Martelli.]  The  devil. 

Ann.   Or  some  other  gentleman. 

Pie.  I  never  heard  hiin  called  a  gentleman  before  ;  but  if  he  is  one, 
we  are  not  fit  company  for  him. 

Mar.  (u.)  Stay  ! 

Pie.  Hem  !  you're  very  good — ;but  I've  got  some  important  affairs  to 
attend  to,  that  I  didn't  think,  of  before,  and  \_Asidc^  I  say,  Annette,  are 
you  quite  sure  he  hasn't  a  tail? 

Ann.  Don't  be  so  foolish — Can't  you  see  he  hasn't  1 

Pie,  No,  I  can't,  damme,  he  might  have  one  in  three  volumes  under 
his  cloak — Look  at  his  feet  and  legs,  do  you  see  'em  ! 

Ann.   [Pettishly  ]  Yes,  and  I  wish  yours  were  ha'f  as  good. 

Pie.   They  have  always  been  considered  unrivalled  before. 

Mar.  [  Aside,  r.  h  ]  No  guests,  no  sounds  of  that  same  mirth.  I 
dread  to  hear — the  bride  is  betrothed. 

Ann.   What  did  he  say  '! 

Pie.  Curse  me  if  I  know,  I  never  heard  any  body  mutter  and  grumble 
so  before. 

Mar.  Maiden,  is  not  this  the  house  of  Siu;nor  Bartolo  ? 

Ann.  Yes.  so  please  you — [Tt»  Pietro]      He  is  one  of  the  guests. 

Pie.  He  has  never  shown  his  face  here  before. 

Ann.  Come  you  to  the  betrothal,  sir  ! 

Mar.  No.  that  is — I  wish  to  learn  if  it  has  taken  place. 

Ann.  Oh,  dear,  no,  sir — the  strangest  thing 

Pic.   Such  as  was  never  heard  of  before. 

Ann.  Just  as  Signor  Ricardo  asked  her  hand,  she  drew  back,  and 
when  her  father  insisted,  s^le  swore 

Pic.  A  thing  she  was  nevrr  known  to  do  before. 

Ann.  Silence,  Pietro,  or  I'll  hold  my  tongue. 

Pic.   A  thing  you  were  never  known  to  do  before. 

Ann.  So  please  you,  Signor,  she  refused,  and  in  the  end  persisted,  so 
that,  'stead  of  her  intended  lover,  if  at  the  twelve  months'  end  a 
Mincralo 

Mar.  Whatl 

Ann.  Should  come  to  claim  her.  having  three  thousand  ducats,  or  the 
worth  in  gold,  why,  he  s-hould  have  her. 

Mar.   Heard  you  his  name  ? 

Ann.  No,  Signor,  the  maiden  knew  it  not — but  vowed  she  loved  him. 
[Martelli  .\carchca  eai'crly  in  his  bonoin,  and  drawn  a  letter  from  it, 
slances  his  eye  hurriedly  over  it,  and  bursts  into  an  hysterical 
lansh. 

Mar.  'Twas  for  a  Mineralo  she  refused  iicr  lover'' 

Aim    It  was,  Signor. 

Pic.  [C/0S5CS.]  More  fool  she  to  lose  a  prudtmf  match  for  such  an 
outcast  wretch. 

Mar.  \_Passionatchj.'\  Ha  I  I'll — no,  no, — I  am  noc  so  lost  as  to  re- 
sent the  insults  of  a  (bol — Maiden,  should'st  thou  see  Bartolo's  daughter, 
say  the  Mineralo  will  lose  his  heart's  blood  ere  he  fail  to  meet  her  at  the 
bridal — Away — {Exeunt  Annette  and   Pteti:o — '^{wktk'lia  reading  let- 


14  THE    MINERALI. 

tf.r.]     "If  you  (lid  ever  love,  come  to  Leila's  bridal,  whether  thou  art 

tliere  or  not,  my  deeds  sliall  show  my  heart,  I  know  not  what  thou  art, 
but  knowing  how  I  love  thee,  again  I  say — come."  [Martelli  takes 
several  picccx  of  ore  Jrom  Inn  pouch,  and  looks  at  than,  as  if  in  thougho, 
suddenly  exclaims]  The  half — more  than  the  half!   she's  mine. 

[Rushes  off,  V. 

END    OF    ACT    I. 


ACT  ir. 

Scene  I. — Part  of  the  Mountain. 
Enter  Antonio  and  Makco,  1  e  e.  h. 

Ant.  [Speaking  ariffrily  as  he  Oi^tri.]  A  blight  and  a  curse  on  thy  ill- 
natnre. 

Marco.  A  blight  on  thine  own  folly  ;  why  did'st  play  so  long,  saw 
you  not  fortune  set  her  face  against  you  1  I  did,  and  therefore  chose 
not  to  venture  my  last  ducat  on  a  desperate  chance.  And  thus,  for- 
sooth, I've  given  license  to  thy  tongue  to  tax  me  with  ill-nature. 

Ant.  Why,  had  you  let  me  try  but  one  throjv  more,  I  might  have 
won  all  back  ;  so  again  I  say,  a  blight  upon  your  grasping  hand. 

Marco.  Hark  ye,  Antonio  I  thou  knowest  the  source  from  whence  my 
pouch  must  win  its  weight,  or  tenant  the  poor  air;  thou  art  as  free  to 
seek  for  gold  as  I— why,  thereibre,  must  I  bend  with  toil  to  gain  the  ore 
for  thee  !   hast  not  hands,  man!   thou  hast — then  use  them. 

Ant.  I  have  ne'er  been  called  a  sluggard. 

Marco  Thou  wast  well  enough  before  the  dice  possessed  thy  mind, 
with  hopes  of  winning  the  coined  gold;  but  since  the  goodly  effigies 
have  met  thy  eyes,  I  liave  not  seen  thee  tax  thy  eyes  to  look  for  un- 
stamped inetal. 

Ant.  What  say  ve  ?  this  has  been  rare  weather  to  brave  the  steeps  ; 
the  devil.  I  think,  hath  ta'en  a  holiday  these  two  months  past,  and  rev- 
elled in  the  storm  ;  besides,  I  dug  and  looked  in  vain,  till  1  was  sick — 
ill  luck  marked  my  course — what  others  found,  and  found  as  gold,  would 
have  turned  into  dross  for  me.  I  have  seen  them  watch  their  heaps, 
piled  from  the  very  spots  I  could  not  trace  a  grain  in.  I  passed  them 
then,  but  if  we  meet  again 

Marco.   Well! 

Aiil.  I'll  tell  them  of  my  evil  chance,  and  claim  a  share — should  they 
refuse  to  lend  a  part 

Marco.   What  then  ! 

Ant.  Why,  then,  perhaps,  I  may  take  ali  ;  Isut  this  be  sure  of,  I  will 
have  gold  ! 

Marco.   But  not  unfairly. 

Arit.  No,  no — not  unfairly,  no  ;  we'll  play  fairly  for  the  good  stake, 
life  for  life,  atid  the  treasure  for  the  winner.  [Grosses  r.  h.]  But  it  may 
not  come  to  this — thou  know'st  Martelli  !  he  hath  found  some  fairy 
wand,  and  smiles  on  heaps  of  what  I  want  ;  'tis  said  he  hath  a  giving 
mind — I'll   seek  hhn  out,  and  if  he  keep  it  now,  I  will  not  b^ulk  his 


I 


THE    MINERALI.  15 

humor,  so  he'll  but  let  me  owe  him  gold.     I  care  not  though  I  pay  the 
sum  ten  thousand  times  in  tl>anks. 

Murco.   I  will  with  thoe. 

Ant.  Good — thy  hand  !  \^Entcr  PiETuo,  2  E.  L.  H.]  Suppose  he  says, 
he  wants  it — so  do  we — he's  one — we  two  I  therefore,  hy  right,  'tis  ours, 
for  we've  a  double  claim. 

Marco.  By  the  martyrs  !  thou  art  right. 

Fie.   I  never  heard  such  lo^^ic  as  that  before. 

Ant.   What  the  devil  do  you  want  here  ! 

Vie.  I  never  heard  such  a  remarkably  unpleasant  voice. 

Ant.  Marco,  this  fool  has  overheard  us. 

Pic.  Overheard  !   no,  but  1  rather  overlooked  you. 

Marco.  Do  you  know  us  \ 

PieJ  No.  upon  my  life  ;  I  never  saw  you  before. 

Ant.   What  in  the  fiend's  name,  do  you  want  herel 

Vie.  My  young  lady  sent  me. 

Marco.  Your  young  lady  sent  you  1 

Pie.   1  beg  pardon.      I  said  that  before. 

Ant.  And  what  were  you  sent  for! 

Pie.  I'll  tell  you  in  confidence.  ICrosses  to  c.'j  I  often  ccme,  but  I 
never  mentioned  it  before. 

Ant.   [Har.sIUt/.]  Go  on  ! 

Pie.  [Goinffi  I'm  going.   [Cresses  to  u.  h.]   Good  byel 

Ant.   [Slops  him.]  Wliithernowl 

Pie.  I  thought  you  told  me  to  go  on. 

Ant.   [Sarcasticalli/  ]   Aye,  with  your  confidence. 

Pie.  [Aside  ]  It  was  never  so  misplaced  before.  [Aloud.]  Well,  I 
often  come  here  to  seek  for  one  of  those  wild,  unchristian-like,  cut- 
throats of  gold  seekers. 

Ant.  (r.  h.)  Then  you're  in  luck. 

Pic.  (c.)  I'm  glad  you  mention  it,  for  I  didn't  think  so  before. 

Marco.  Yes,  you  are  in  rare  luck — you  came  to  seek  one,  did  you? 

Pie    Yes.  I  told  you  so  before. 

Avt.  I  remember  it — your  compliments,  too  ;  now  my  good  fellow, 
here  are  two  of  tfee  cut-throats  at  your  service. 

Marco.   [Bowing.]   At  your  service  ! 

Pie.  Why  the  devil  didn't  you  say  so  before,  1  wouldn't  have  abused 
you  (to  your  faces)  for  the  world. 

Marco.  [Snatches  letter  from  Pietro  ]  To  Martelli '  [Readt.']  Let's 
see.  a  prayer  for  some  of  the  proceeds  of  his  good  fortune,  for  instant 
want,  signed  by  the  young  Francisco. 

A7it.   [To  Pietro.]   Good! — doubtless  you  can  find  Martelli  1 

Pic.  Oh  I  yes  ;   I've  often  seen  him  before. 

Ant.  [Sissiiing  to  Mai'.co.]  The  ways  are  dangerous  here  ;  we'll  guide 
you  safe.     Come,  friend  !  on  to  Martelli ! 

[Marco  and  Antonio  seize  Pietro,  and  push  hun  forward. 

Pie.  Wouldn't  you  like  to  go  before  ! 

[PiEiRo  endeavors  to  turn  hack,  they  draw  their  daggers — he  retreat* 
from  them. 

Pie.  I  never  saw  such  guiding  as  this  before. 


16  THE    MINERALI. 

Marco.  On — on  ! 

l^Exit  PiETRo,  followed  hy  Antonio  and  Marco,  e.   h.     Hurried 
Music. 

Scene  II. — Same  as  Acl  I,  Scene  I.     Plaintive  Music. 

Eiilcr  Francisco,  down  plaf/orm,  2  e.  l.  h. — Appears  dejected. 

Fran.  So  all  hope  is  past  I  To-morrow  the  bridal  day,  and  I  have 
scarce  a  tithe  of  the  sum  promised.  I  have  learnt  in  the  last  year,  Mar- 
telli  spoke  tlie  truth  of  our  branded  race.  Still  I  have  toiled,  and  toiled, 
but  here  ends  all.  There  must  I  meet  Leila,  and  I  fear  for  ever — bid 
her  farewell  for  ever  !     She  comes — now  for  calmness  1 

Enter  Leii,.*.  from  cottage,  r.  h.  She  rushes  eagerly  down  to  Francisco 
— fixes  her  eyes  upon  his  face — he  takes  her  hand,  and  is  about  to  speak 
— she  motions  him  to  he  silent. 

Lei.  No,  no,  Francisco.  I  would  not,  could  not,  hear  thee  now  !  I 
can  read  all — one  word  will  do  ;  its  characters  are  on  thy  face,  "  de- 
spair."    [Franclsco  clasps  her  in  his  arms,  and,  after  a  strmrsie,  .speaks. 

Fran.    Yes,  Leila,  yes,  you  are  right  ;  there's  nothing  left  but  that. 

Lei.  [Endcaoonng  to  cheer  Ai//i.]  Come,  come,  Francisco  !  Courage, 
courage ! 

Fran.  Courage,  Leila,  courage!  Ha,  ha,  ha!  1  have  toiled  early  and 
late — risen  with  the  sun — v^atched  the  dimming  stars — strained  heart 
and  soul — ventured  limb  and  life — and  all  for  tiiis — for  this! 

Lei.   Nay,  nay,  Francisco  ;  bear  up  for  Leila's  sake.   Is  there  no.  hope'! 

Fran.   None,  none — with  gold  alone  dare  I  claim  thee,  Leila.     I  have 
not  yet  one  fourth   the  sum — the    stipulation    named.      1    pledged  my 
word — ay,  my  word,  to   see   thee   not,  unless  with  right  to  wed  thee  ;  - 
outcast  as  I  am,  I  am  bound  by  that.  [Crosses  to  r.  h 

Lei.  Nor  could  I  love  thee,  did  thou  forfeit  honor.  [Aside.]  'Tis  a 
desperate  chance,  but  must  be  tried.  Francisco,  fearing  thy  wild  daring, 
I  wrung  from  thee  a  pledge  ne'er  to  venture  to  the  summit  of  yonder 
dizzy  steep. 

Fran.   [Eagerly.']  I  had  forgot. 

Lei.  Thou  hast  broke  thy  vow. 

Fran.   [Reproachfully .]  Leila  ! 

Lei.  Pardon,  pardon  me.  Francisco  !  I  know  thou  hast  not  :  fear 
not  doubt  of  thy  honor  did  prompt  me  to  inquire.  Is  the  path  guarded 
with  all  the  dangers  men  report,  or  have  they  but  their  hideous  forms 
in  the  fear-stricken  eyes  of  those  whose  timid  hearts  do  seek  excuses 
for  their  want  of  the  bold  daring  that  doth  court  such  trials  1 

Fran.  Leila,  say  1  may  venture,  and  I'll  twine  my  arms  about  the 
stei'p.  and  seek  its  summit  with  the  desperate  zeal  that  prompts  the 
bounding  stag,  to  dare  tlic  space  yawning  in  frightful  extent,  'twixt  the 
threatning  rock. 

Lei.  Thou  hast  not  answered  what  I  wished  to  learn  ;  is  the  danger 
great,  as  it  is  said  to  be  \ 

J'Van.  ril  not  deceive  thee  ;  those  who  from  their  childhood  have  been 
trained  to  court  such  scenes,  have  never  ventured  to  essay  the  task. 


THE    MINERALI.  17 

Lei.  Love  ne'er  hath  prompted  them. 

Fran.  This  were  reproach,  but  that  tnou  Unowest  my  neart  ;  again 
i  ask  to  move  all  doubts  of  thy  true  love,  am  I  to  venture  1 

Jjci.  On  one  condition.     Yes. 

Fran.  [Jvyou.thj.]  Tiianks,  Leila !  [Kissing  her,  crosses  to  l.  h.] 
Now,  farewell — farewell  ! 

Lei.  Tarry  ;  thou  hast  not  heard  me  out. 

Fran.   I'll  swear  to  aught  you  wish. 

Lei.  h  is  a  simple  thing  I  have  to  ask. 

Fran.  Would  it  were  fraught  with  danger,  that  I  might  further  prove 
my  love. 

.Lei.  Forward  !     Be  thou  my  guide — we  go  together. 

FraJi.   I^eila,  thou  dost  jest. 

Lei.  [Pointing  to  the  sleep.]  Time  presses — waste  it  not  idly.  For- 
ward to  the  task.  [Cros!>es  to  l.  n. 

Fran.  Thou  art  mad  !  I  cannot — dare  not — let  thee  go  !  I  should 
be  cool  myself,  not  torn  with  fears  for  thee  ;  each  eye  should  seek  the 
earth,  to  trace  even  the  blighted  grass  on  the  thin  ledge,  where  only  one 
can  pass,  at  peril  even  then  of  liis  dear  life  ;  how  can  I  guard  with  cau- 
tion such  as  this  my  steps,  and  know  that  thy  unpractised  feet  arc  fol- 
lowing in  their  course. 

Lei.  Thy  vow,  Francisco  ! 

Fran.  Thy  presence  will  unnerve  my  heart.     I  cannot  go. 

Lei.  I  am  resolved  !  Despair  is  now  my  prompter,  and  I  will  listen 
to  its  dictates.  I  have  pondered  well  upon  this  scheme — anticipated  all 
thy  arguments  against  my  gomg,  and — I  am  resolved. 

Fran.  Leila  I 

Lei.  Hear  me  out ;  did  to-morrow  leave  me  unclaimed  by  thee  to 
pine  alone  in  sorrow  for  thy  loss,  the  hope  of  the  bare  chance  of  breath- 
ing the  same  air  would  give  a  taste  of  sweetness  even  to  the  life  of  one 
bereaved  like  me.  But  'tis  not  so  ;  the  suitor  by  my  father  chosen 
holds  his  claim — he  has  a  right  to  do  so,  nor  will  I  e'er  deceive  him ; 
therefore  thy  bride,  or  his,  to-morrow  night  will  see  me.  It  will  be 
heaven  to  share  thy  path  if  thou  dost  ne'er  return,  to  lose  in  death  the 
terrors  of  thy  absence — if  we  fall  or  fail,  'twill  be  together.  Was 
thou  to  go  alone,  suspense  would  drive  me  mad. 

Fran.  I  will  not  baulk  thee,  love,  butcould'st  thou  read  my  heart 

Lei.  It  would  not  alter  mine  !  Gome — for  love,  for  life  !  Come — 
come  !  [^Exeunt,  l.  h. 

Scene  III. — Part  of  the  Mountain  with  raised  Rock,  c 

Martei.li  discovered  exulting  over  a  heap  of  ore. 

Mar.  She's  won  !  she's  won  !  Ha,  ha,  ha  I  this  is  worth  the  work- 
ing for — my  toils  o'erpaid  a  thousand — ay,  a  million  times.  Let  me 
glut  my  eyes  by  gazing  on  thee,  thou  purchaser  of  all  the  heart  can 
yearn  for  ;  here  have  I  the  source  of  fame,  wealth,  honor  !  three  thou- 
sand ducats!  had  the  sum  been  named  for  double  the  amount,  I  could 
have  paid  it  now  for  my  bridal.  How  will  the  gold  seeker  laugh  to 
claim  the  wealthy  and  beloved.     Francisqo  shall  be  my  bridesman,  'twill 


18  TUE    MINERALI. 

gi'ad  his  heart  to  see  me  blest ;  well  thought,  I'll  seek  liim  out.  I  have 
not  seen  the  daring  boy  of  late — Heaven  speed  his  love,  as  it  hath 
smiled  on  mine. 

Enter  PiETRo,  u.  e.  r.  h.,  running. 

Pie.  Run.  Signer  Martelli,  if  you  be  a  man,  to  thy  legs  and  away; 
do  as  I  have  done,  I  never  jolted  my  bones  at  such  a  break-neck  pace 
before. 

Mar.   Coraest  thou  from  Francisco  1 

Fie.  No ;   from  the  devil. 

Mar.  Are  you  mad  ! 

Pie.  Not  that  I  know  of — but  if  I  am,  I  ought  to  be  excused;  I  never 
had  so  good  an  opportunity  to  run  mad  iiefore. 

■Mar.   Peace,  peace '   I  am  in  no  mood  for  jesting. 

Fie.  Nor  I,  Signor  Martelli,  as  I'm  a  christian  !  I  have  run  like  a 
pig  from  wind  to  do  thee  service.  Coming  down  to  seek  thee  with  a 
letter  from  the  young  Francisco,  1  met  two  damned  scoundrels  plotting 
no  good  to  thee  [^Looks  off.]  Here  they  are  ;  run,  signor,  run,  if  you 
never  ran  before — I'm  off.  [Exit,  l.  h. 

JIar.  What  does  the  fool  mean  1  no  matter  ;   I  must  to  the  valley. 

[Martelm  lifts  up  /lis  pouch — begins  to  fix  the  belt  and  buckle  it  round 
his  waist ;  as  he  docs  so  he  nines  vp  the  platform,  c.  Antonio  and 
Marco  enter  as  he  reaches  it — Antonio  beckons  to  Marco  to  retire  ; 
he  dues  so  at  3  E.  K.  H. 

AiU.  A  fair  day  to  you,  Martelli 

Mar.  Thanks,  and  farewell  !  [Crosses  to  r.  h. 

Ant.   W'hy  haste  you  I 

Mar.  Business  of  urgent  moment  will  not  let  me  longer  tarry.  What 
would  you  ! 

Ant.  Briefly,  then,  Martelli,  thus  if  is  :  I  have  lost  the  power  I  think 
of  winning  from  my  toil  the  means  whereby  to  live  ;  thou  hast  fared 
better,  well  nigh  drained  the  richest  cradles  of  the  mountain  side  ;  re- 
port hath  reached  me  of  thy  goodly  heaps  ;  had  fortune  in  her  fickle- 
ness forgotten  thee,  and  smiled  upon  my  search,  I  would  have  freely 
shared  with  thee  ;  knowing  this,  without  reluctance  do  I  come  to  ask 
thy  aid. 

-  Mar.  You  are  right,  in  your  account  of  my  good  chance  ;  which  ne'er 
had  I  pursued  as  1  have  done,  had  my  own  wants  been  prompters  of 
the  search  ;  the  crust  I  crave  is  cheaply  won  ;  for  a  cause  more  dear 
than  life  I've  labored  to  amass  the  gold  thou  speak'st  of  Balanced 
against  thy  wants,  (were  it  my  own)  'twould  be  but  dross  in  my  esteem 
— it's  only  value  coming  from  the  aid  'twould  give  to  thee  ;  as  'tis,  sin- 
cerely I  regret  that  I  cannot  now  assist  thee 

A7U.  'Tis  ever  thus,  when  men  are  borrowers;  'tis  easiei-  far  to 
answer  fair,  than  do  suhstanlial  good. 

Mar.  Thou  dost  not  knovv  the  stake  that  this  must  win. 

Aiit.  Nor  do  I  care  to  know  it. 

Mar.  Softly  1      Fair  words  are  best. 

Ant.  Fair  words  will  neither  feed  nor  clothe.  Hark  ye,  Martelli,  mj 
wants  are  ripe. 


THE    MINERALI.  19 

Mar   I  grieve  they  aie,  but  cannot  serve  »hee. 

Ant.  'Tis  easier  far  to  lie,  tlian  do  urood  deeds. 

Mar.  Lie  i      We  met  as  friends — be  wise,  let  us  part  so. 

Ant.  I  scorn  thy  friendship,  and  thyself. 

Mar.  I  cannot  guide  thy  tongue,  but  thou  hadst  better  not  provoke 
my  wrath. 

Ant.  What  care  I  for  thy  wrath,  or  thee1  Thou  art  an  arrant  cheat, 
wanting  plain  honesty  to  speak  the  truth — thou  hast  the  wish  to  serve, 
forsooth,  but  not  the  power,  else  it  would  pleasure  thee  1  I'll  do  thy 
wish  for  thee — I'll  ease  thy  mind  of  its  regrets,  and  find  the  gold.  So 
thou  still  keep  the  will  ! 

Mar.  Find  it  in  Heaven's  name,  if  you  know  where  to  seek  it. 

Avt.  Say'st  thou  so-]  The  search  will  be  a  short  one^  for  in  thy  belt 
it  rests. 

Mar.  What  !     No,  no — you  jest — you  would  not  seek  to  rob  ] 

Ant.  No  ;   I  only  wish  to  share. 

Mar.   I've  told  thee  once,  thou  canst  not  share. 

Ant.  [Beckons  Marco  down,  u.  h  ]  I  tell  thee,  here  are  two,  and  we 
will  share. 

Mar.  [To  Marco.]  Wilt  thou  stand  by  him  in  this  deedl 

Marco.   I  will. 

Mar.  Be  warned — stand  off — come  not  within  my  reach  !  Ask  for 
my  heart,  as  soon  I'd  part  with  it.  as  with  one  grain  of  what  my  toil  has 
earned.  Stand  off,  again  !  I've  braved  the  blast — courted  the  storm,  to 
find  this  treasure  ;  take  the  limbs  I've  perilled — the  heart  I've  strained 
— the  blood  that  nurtures  it — but  touch  not  that.  Stand  off.  again  I 
say  !  Or.  if  ye  come — come,  as  ye  would  seek  to  wrest  the  sucking 
panther  from  the  source  from  whence  it  draws  the  parent  flood,  that 
matures  its  youni;  growth.     Off,  off! 

Ant    Now  !   Marco,  now  ! 

[M.iRTE.M.i  is  attacked  by  Marco  and  Antonio — after  a  struggle, 
Martelli  throws  Antonio  down,  and  placet  his  foot  upon  his 
chest — sei.-es  Marco,  and  throws  him  across  his  knee — raises  his 
hand,  qbout  to  strike — pauses,  and  releasing  them,  exclaims — 

2Iar.  Away  I  and  never  cross  me  more;  but  while  you  live  still 
thank  your  fate — a  brave  man  will  not  murder  ! 

\^Thcy  rise — Marco  seems  about  to  no — Antonio  calls  him  back. 

Ant.  Fool  I   we  have  gone  too  far!     Come,  once  more 

[^Tkcy  ae/ain  close  with  Mautelli — Marteli.i  throws  Marco,  loho 
escapes  after  a  struggle — Antonio  wounds  Maktei.li,  who  secures 
Antonio  by  the  throat,  and  holds  him. 

Mar.  Coward  !  miscreant  !  v^'hom  neither  good  nor  ill  can  alter — 
whom  but  now  I  spared,  and  spared  but  to  provoke — see'st  thou  yon 
cliff?  Brooding  on  murder,  did  thy  vile  feet  pass  it  ;  for  after  ages  it 
shall  stand  the  monument  of  my  rovenije — and  shuddering  peasants 
shall,  with  averted  eyes,  p.iss  tlip  tainted  spot,  where  thv  crushed  car- 
case fe.sters  in  the  wind.  Come  to  thy  fate  ! — Come  !  [Draffs  Anto- 
nio up  the  prccif'ice  ;  after  a  struggle,  dashes  him  doirn,  and  lan<ihs 
exulting  over  hinu — Descending.}  So  this  is  safe — all  safe  !  herel   here  I 


20  MHE    MTNERALI. 

ha,  ha,  ha  !     Won  by  this  scratch,  too;  let  me  bear  up,  the  hurt  Is 
slight — time  presses  ;   I  can  still  reach  the  bridal.     Now,  for  Leila  ! 

[Leila  and  Francisco  ascend  from  2  k.  l.  h.,  and  gradually  approach 
the  loj)  of  the  mountain — Francisco  anxiounly  w.itchh^g  and  as- 
swling  her. 

Lei.  Bravely  done  !  one  step,  and  then  the  summit  will  be  reached  ; 
may  fortune  still  smile  on.  and  all  will  yet  be  well. 

Fran.  My  blood  chills  to  see  thee  stand  on  such  a  height,  and  think 
upon  the  peril  thou  hast  past.     I  scarce  can  trace  the  village  church. 

Lei.  Look  not  back,  Francisco,  but  to  work  ;  the  clouds  are  lowering, 
and  the  time  draws  nigh.  {^Thunder. 

Fran.  The  storm  is  ripening!  Leila, 'tis  vain!  I  must  see  thee 
safely  down,  far  work  I  cannot,  with  thy  life  at  ^take. 

Lei.    [Taking  the  pickaxe  ]   Must  I  try  my  woman's  strength  ? 

Fran.  Well  reproved  !  I  blush  to  see  thee  calm — and  firm — and  rush- 
ing pulse  that  traverses  my  aching  breast.  To  work,  to  work  !  [Music. 
Strikes  the  pickaxe  into  the  earth.]  Ha  !  what's  this  1  gold,  gold  !  I 
feel  new  hope — new  life  !  look,  Leila,  look  !  can'st  thou  not  trace  the 
precious  vein  !  sec,  here  it  winds  I  Now,  now,  it  deepens,  and  the  earth 
hangs  in  firmer  masses  to  its  sides  !  Ha  !  again  it  yields,  and  yielding 
strengthens  my  firm  hopes. 

Lei.  Thank  heaven  !  Francisco,  thou  may 'st  yet  keep  thy  word  yet 
claim  me  at  the  bridal ;   let  that  thought  nerve  thy  arm. 

Frati.  It  does,  Leila,  it  does.  How  the  day  shortens;  see,  night 
comes,  as  doth  the  lightning's  flash,  unlooked  for  and  in  suddenness. 

Lei.  Nay,  the  day  will  last  in  its  full  light  some  hours  yet. 

Fran.  Hours !  art  sure  the're  hours  ?  No,  no,  it  cannot  be,  see  the 
black  clouds,  how  rapidly  they  grow,  and  borrow  speed  from  the  quick 
wind,  to  pall  the  dying  sun. 

J^ci.  How's  this  !  thy  hot  impatience  clothes  them  with  this  haste; 
thou  hast  full  time  :  with  calmness  search,  nor  longer  strain  thy  starting 
eyes  :  day  hath  yet  some  hours  to  live.  [Apart  looking  down  ]  Could 
I  but  gain  that  pass  alone,  in  safety  might  I  descend.  Now,  to  fix  him 
to  the  spot.  [Goc.i  vp  to  Francisco  and  directs  him  to  look  so  that  his 
back  is  to  her.]  There,  there,  see  the  vein  widens,  keep  thine  eye  there. 
[She  begiim  to  descend  as  lit  works?^    Continues  it  ! 

Fran.   It  doth,  it  doth  ;   but  where  art  thou,  thy  voice  grows  faint. 

Lei.  [Jjouder — siill  de.s-cendinr  .^  Thy  fancy — but  thy  fancy  ;  or  per 
haps  the  hasty  gusts  of  the  increasing  wind  do  drown  its  tones. 

Fran.  Keep  near  me,  let  me  know  that  thou  art  safe. 

Lei.  To  work,  to  work,  if  thou  wouldst  have  me  by  thy  side  for  life  ; 
lo-morrow  must  thy  happiness  begin.  On,  on,  nor  turn  thine  eye  from 
that,  my  [)romised  ransom.  [She  descends  carefully. 

Fran.  Never  did  the  earth  cHng  as  it  does  in  opposition  now. 

Lei.   Thy  toil  is  hard — promise  thou  wilt  not  leave  it. 

Fran.   Not  while  I've  life. 

Lei.  \  Still  dc.tcendtng  ]  ThanUs  !  dearest  Francisco,  thanks.  [Apart.'] 
Can  I  leave  him.  E'en  my  unpractised  eye  can  see  the  tempest  gathering 
How  shall  I  HCtl  My  father,  should  lie  miss  my  presence,  will  be  well 
nijih  distrauo-ht.     I  must  venture. 


THE    MINERALI. 


21 


[Music.     Lkila  descends,  and  as  she  does  so  gets  behind  a  crag  that 
hides  her  from  Fiiancisco — he  turns  suddenly  and  exclaims . 

Fran.  Oh,  God  !   she's  lost  !  [Rushes  to  the  erfge  atid  leans  over. 

Lei.  {Appcarrnrr  from  hchiiid  rock.]  No,  Francisco.  I'm  safe !  nay, 
move  not  a  foot  to  iollow  me.  Listen,  I  liave  passed  the  worst  part  of 
the  way,  and  as  thou  see'st  in  safety  ;  the  path  beneath  is  such  a  one 
as  an  unguarded  child  might  track  unscathed  ;  the  only  fear  I  have  is 
ihus  to  leave  thee  where  the  tempest  will  its  wildest  fury  vent,  and  if 
my  woman's  heart  can  venture  thus,  thine  needs  must  be  at  rest  to 
know  the  mountain  passed,  I'm  sheltered  in  the  valley,  whither  unless 
to-morrow  thou  would'st  claim  a  bride  that  scandal's  ready  tongue 
would  taint  with  shame,  thy  anxious  voice  would  urge  my  steps ;  back 
to  thy  task,  thou  shall  not  stir  one  step  to  guard  my  way  ;  let  thy 
prayers  with  thy  Leila  go,  as  hers  will  rise  for  thee — if  thou  dost  love 
me.  prove  it  now — stir  not,  farewell  I  {Exit  Leila,  down  rock. 

Fran  [  Watching  her,  and  getting  lower  down.]  Light  as  the  air-born 
foam  upon  the  torrent's  tide,  she  winds  her  way  along  the  narrow  path  ; 
her  fragile  fingers  seem  endowed  with  superhuman  strength.  Hal 
that  shelving  rock  taxed  all  my  care — do  not  trust  that  sapling,  it  will 
not  bear  the  half  thy  weigh! — she  hears  me  not.  Eternity  is  yawning 
at  thy  feet — it  bends!  heavenly  powers  I   she's  safe  I   she's  safe  ! 

\_As  he  rushes  up  to  work  ike  scene  changes. 

Scene  IV. — A  Chamber  in  Bautolo's  House. 

Enter  Annette,  1  e.  l.  h. 

Ann.  Dear  me  !  how  I  wish  the  day  was  past !  I'm  in  such  a  fever 
to  know  if  Leila's  young  lover  will  come  and  claim  her  !  I  do  hope  he 
will,  for  Ricardo  has  grovi'n  quite  morose  and  disagreeable.  He's  al- 
ways scowling  at  her  and  myself,  and  sneering  about  the  poor  Gold 
Seeker,  who,  if  report  speaks  true,  has  the  courage  of  the  lion  with  the 
gentle  heart  of  a  woman.  I  almost  fear  I'm  half  in  love  with  him  my- 
self Pietro  is  so  dull  and  matter  of  fact  !  I  do  hate  a  man  that  stops 
to  apologize  for  ruffling  a  frill  in  the  midst  of  a  struggle  for  a  kiss. 
I've  been  talking  to  the  maidens  in  the  valley,  and  they've  all  a  sneak- 
ing kindness  for  these  children  of  chance — their  wild  legends  tell  many 
a  talc  of  love  and  daring.  It  must  be  charming  to  be  wooed  by  one  of 
them  :  smiling  in  his  stolen  interviews  with  delicious  uncertainty  as  to 
whether  he  has  broken  his  dear  neck  or  not.  How  I  wish  I  could  hear 
one  of  them  at  my  window,  singing  as  he  did  who  won  the  heiress  of 
the  valley. 

Song — Annette.     {Introduced.) 

Enter  Pietro,  running. 

Pic.  Oh,  Annette  !  I  never  was  so  delighted  to  hear  your  singing 
before.  [  Fanning  himself  with  the  tail  of  his  coat. 

Ann.  Why,  what's  the  matter  with  you  1  Have  you  delivered  the 
letter  to  Martellil 

Pie.  Dont  talk  to  me  about  letters.  I've  delivered  myself — that's  a 
deliverance  you  ought  to  be  grateful  for. 


22  THE    MINERALI. 

Ann.  What  arc  you  talking  about  1 

Pie.  Oh  !  such  an  adventure,  Annette — I  never  was  so  nearly  anni- 
hilated before. 

Ann.  Annihilated  1   nonsense! 

Pie.  Annihilated  nonsense!  there's  a  speech  for  a  sweetheart .  calla 
the  annihilation  of  her  twin  turtle  nonsense  !  .For  shame  !  blush — 
whether  it  becomes  you  or  not — blush,  if  you  never  blushed  before. 

Ann.   So  I  do  blush. 

Pie.   You  ought. 

Ann.  For  you.  you  booby  ! 

Pie.  You  shameless  decrier  of  intellect !  But  I'll  be  revenged  !  I 
won't  tellyou  a  word. 

Ann.  La  !  I  must  coax  him  a  little,  or  I  shall  die  with  curiosity.  Dear 
Pietro,  what  has  happened  '! 

Pic.  Do  you  retract  what  you  said  before  1 

Ann.  I  do. 

Pie.  Come  to  my  arms. 

[He  goe.t  to  embrace  her — as  he  (ouches  her  she  screams. 

Ann.  Oh,  my  frill ! 

Pie.  [Desi.vtinn-.]    I  didn't  think  of  that  before. 

Ann.  [Pettishhj,  apar/..]  What  a  fool  he  is  ! — and  what  a  fool  I  was  ! 
I  might  as  well  have  held  my  tongue.  [To  Pietro.]  Well,  go  on,  will 
you  '. 

Pie.  Well   then,  as  I  was  going  along,  thinking  of 

An7i.   I  know — nothing,  of  course — go  on. 

Pie.  Frisking,  like  a  fawn. 

Ann.  A  fai  one — go  on. 

Pie.  And  singing  like — like 

Ann.  An  owl — go  on. 

Pie.  So  I  did  go  on.   [Sin^s.]    Fal  de  ral  de  ra,  &c. 

Ann.  Never  mind  your  fal  de  ral  de  ra. 

Pie.  You  had  better  tell  it  yourself,  hadn't  you  ? 

Ann.  So  I  shall,  all  over  the  village,  the  moment  I  know  it 

Pie.  Then  I'll  repeat  it — you'll  want  to  learn  the  air.  [He  sins^s.'] 
There — that's  it,  to  a  scmibreve.     What  a  thing  it  is  to  have  an  ear. 

Attn,  [A.side.'j  Not  when  one  has  a  fool  buzzing  in  it.  [To  him.] 
Go  on. 

Pie.  What  with  singing  and  skipping,  I  came  to  the  place  directed, 
and  there  I  saw  and  heard  two  of  the  devil's  children  plotting  mischief 
against  Martelli.  I  listened  till  my  blood  began  to  boil,  and  then  I  up 
and  told  'em  a  bit  of  my  mind.  To  make  a  short  story — from  hard 
words  we  came  to  hard  blows — that  is,  we  might  have  done  so,  but  they 
took  me  prisoner — but  as  a  proof  of  their  admiration  of  my  symmetry 
and  valor,  they  insisted  on  my  going  first,  and  as  soon  as  I  got  an  op- 
portunity of  showing  my  courage 

Anyi.  You  ran 

Pie.  Like  the  very  devil  ! 

Ann.   Did  he  follow  1 

Pie.  I'm  not  clear  upon  that  point,  as  I  couldn't  afTord  tho  time  t« 
look  behind  me. 


THE    MIXER AT.I. 


ki 


Ann.   Poor  fnllow  !   perhnps  he  has  fallen  ? 

Pie.  What  o'that  !  he  can  scan  gc-t  up  again.  But  look,  Annette, 
yonder  comes  Ricardo.  'Twas  a  sad  day  for  Leila  when  she  saw  the 
Mineralo. 

An7i.  Why  so  ]     May  he  not  ynt  come  1 

Pie.  Yes.  he  may  come,  but  not  wilh  gold  to  the  amount  named. 
None  of 'em  ever  found  such  a  sum  before 

Ann.  I  must  away  to  seek  Leila.  Heaven  send  her  lover  and  the 
dower,  say  L 

Pie.  Annette,  to-day  you'll  become 

Ann.   Whatl 

Pie.  What  you've  often  prayed  to  be  before — my  wife  ! 

Ann.   Indeed  !  then  be  thankful  you've  no  rival. 

Pie.  One  ki<s  I 

[  Approachc.'!  Annette — as  he  is  about  to  tahc  a  kiss,  she  lav^lis. 

Ann.  My  frill  !   my  frill  !  [Exit,  l.  h. 

Pie.  Farewell — farewell  1  Curse  the  frill  !  I'll  annihilate  clear 
starch  the  moment  the  ceremony's  over  !  There's  somelhinff  very 
awful  in  the  word  "  Wife  !''  How  nervous  I  feel  !  I  never  v^^ntured 
to  speak  it  before.  '[Exit,  l.  h. 

Scene  V. — Barlolo's  House,  laid  out  for  the  Bridal. 
Enter  Baltolo,  Nicolo,  Ric^rdo,  and  numerous  Guests. 

Nic.  As  I  told  thee,  report  says  the  Mineralo  holds  his  purpose,  but 
"with  little  chance  of  gaining  the  full  sum  I  named,  so  do  we  come  to 
claim  thy  daughter's  hand,  as  promised  when  we  parted  last. 

Bar.  Thou  art  ever  welcome — 'twill  glad  me  much  to  bid  thee  so, 
and  call  thee  son. 

Etc.  I  have  dealt  fairly  with  the  maid.  The  stipulated  time,  except 
an  hour,  hath  passed  ;  nor  have  I  in  it  once  wearied  her  with  such  re- 
proach as  her  own  act  had  warranted. 

Bar.  I  thank  thee  for  thy  calm  endurance,  and  trust  her  duties  as  a 
loving  wife  fulfilled  will  well  repay  thee. 

Enter  Annette,  hastily,  l.  h. 

Ann.  Heavens!  Signor  Bartolo,  have  you  seen  your  daughter ' 

Bar.   \  go  to  seek  her  now. 

Ann.  You'll  find  her  not. 

Bar.  How  say'st  thou  ' 

Ann.  But  now  1  left  Pietro  to  seek  her  out,  and  help  to  clothe  her 
in  her  bridal  dress.  Unanswered  at  the  door  for  some  few  minutes  did 
I  sunimon  her.  At  length  weary  of  waiting  thus,  I  entered,  and  'stead 
of  Leila  found  the  chamber  as  if  the  whole  night  through  it  had  not 
known  a  tenant.  The  flowers  that  should  have  forined  the  bridal 
wreath  were  sorted,  and,  as  left  in  haste,  were  on  the  tnble  withering. 
I've  searched  each  room  since  then,  and  found  no  trace  of  her. 

Bar.  Gone,  say  you  \  No,  'tis  impossible.  I  know  her  heart.  How- 
ever love  might  plead,  she  would  not  break  her  plighted  word  for 
worlds. 


24  THE    MINERAL!. 

Nic.  I  would  not  willingly  believe  an  act  that  would  forevei  slur  thy 
daughter's  fame,  but  this  looks  so  like  the  truth 

Bar.  Hold  1  dare  not  to  breathe  one  breath  against  her  honor.  If  she 
is  gone,  my  soul  upon't  'tis  not  her  fault — some  most  foul  means  have 
been  resorted  to. 

Jiic.  I  think  with  you.  I  know  full  well  the  lawless  mind  of  tho 
insidious  wretch  that  charmed  her  love  would  scarcely  shrink  from  any 
means,  however  base.  Fool  that  I  am,  not  to  have  taken  care  to  guard 
against  this  evil  ! 

Oinncs.  Francisco  ! 

Enter  Francisco,  melancholy  and  dejected,  c. 

Ric.  Ha  !  what  would'st  thou  here?  thy  bride  is  losti 

Fran.  To  me  she  is  for  ever  !  Signor,  the  time  is  come,  and  here  I 
stand,  spite  of  my  toil,  scarce  richer  than  when  with  mounting  hope  I 
eft  you.  I  have  come  to  keep  my  faith,  to  quit  all  claim  your  promise 
gave,  and,  as  the  last  prayer  of  a  wretched  man,  entreat  your  leave  to 
say  farewell  to  her. 

Ric.  [71)  NicoLo]  This  is  some  vile  dissembling  to  cover  his  base 
deeds.  \To  Francisco.]  How  darest  thou  blight  these  walls  with  thy 
foul  presence  1 

Fran.  Taunt  on,  an'  if  you  will — you  may  do  so  in  safety — I  am  sunk 
beneath  resentment. 

Ri'.  Nevertheless,  that  feeling  may  be  nursed  by  me. 

Fran.  What  would  you  have  1  Cans't  wish  for  blessing  greater  than 
to  call  thine  own  the  purest  being  sun  e'er  shone  upon  ''  Though  thy 
reproaches  now  are  scarcely  generous,  I  do  forgive  thee.  Thy  heart 
beats  high  with  triumph — mine  is  crushed  with  hopeless  misery.  [To 
Bartolo.j  Old  man,  if  the  remembrance  of  thy  spring  time,  when  with 
fervor  thou  didst  bend  to  the  fond  idol  of  thy  love  with  earnest  willing 
faith — if  this  sunny  hour  have  held  its  sway  amid  the  changing  scenes 
of  thy  past  life — I  do  entreat,  although  thou  art  not  bound,  even  for  the 
sake  of  that  remembrance — let  me  for  the  last  time  see  thy  daughter. 

Nic.  Pray'st  thou  in  earnestness! 

Fran.  Prays  the  wretch  blackening  on  the  barren  desert  under  the 
scorching  sun — as  the  thick  thirst  clogs  his  failing  breath  and  fierce 
convulsions  rack  his  frame — prays  he  for  that  cool  draught  whose  in- 
fluence alone  could  soothe  his  agony  — prays  he,  I  ask.  in  earnestness  1 

Ric.  Thy  deeds  are  known — restore  thy  stolen  bride,  or  take  the  ven- 
geance thou  hast  earned  ! 

Fran.  Restore  !  what  mean  you  ? 

Ric.  Name  the  place  where  thou  hast  left  her.  and,  being  found,  thou 
shall  be  free. 

Fran.  Free  !  you  speak  as  if  I'd  done  some  deed  which  cried  for 
expiation 

Bar.  Thou  hast  robbed  me  of  my  child,  who  by  thy  pledge  was  cL^e 
absolved  from  thee,  and  would  have  done  her  father's  wish, 

Fran.  If  she  refuses  the  husband  thou  hast  chosen  for  her,  I  swear 
she  acts  by  her  own  will,  unguided  by  mj  voice.  Bring  forth  thy 
daughter — she  will  vouch  my  truth. 


THE    MINERALI.  2d 

Nic.  Juggling  still  I     I  tell  thee  she  has  left  her  father  s  roof. 

Fran.  Lt>ft :     When  ? 

Bar.  Since  yesternight. 

Fran.  And  has  she  not  returned  1 

Jiir.   Ti'iou  knovv'st  sl;e  lias  not. 

Fran.  Great  Heaven  !  She's  lost — she's  lost  !  I — I  have  murdered 
her  !  [Crns.^cs  to  r.  h  ]  Oil  I  I  remember  now  how  the  storm  raged,  and 
she   was  then   unaided.     It   would   have   toin   the  pine  from  its  firm 

hold,  how  could  she  grapple  with Ha  !     Perhaps  even  now,  upon 

some  crag  she  lies  !     It   may   not    be    too   late  !     If  ye  be  men,  ioU 
low  me  ! 

[Goins:  to  c,  Frani'isco  rushes  towards  the  door — Ricardo  draws 
hi.'s  dasscr,  and  places  himself  between  him  and  it. 

Ric.   You  go  not  thus  ! 

Fran.  You  will  not  stop  my  way.  If  you're  not  stone,  you'll  let  me 
pass.  Kneeling  I  implore  you,  as  you  prize  your — yes,  tiour  Leila's 
)ife,  on  to  the  mountain  with  me  Why  stand  you  thus,  old  man  1 
If  yon  did  ever  love  your  child,  follow  to  the  cliff! 

[Bartolo  riiRhes  mil,  followed  by  Guests,  o  d.,  tcith  Nicor-o. 

Bic.  Thou  canst  not  further  impose.  The  only  vengeance  I  can  take 
is  this — thy  wretched  life  !  [Rushes  on  Francisco. 

Fran.  This  blow  from  any  other  hand  would  be  a  welcome  one. 
Will  vou  brave  mcl     Come,  then,  blow   for  blow  !    [They  stru!:rgle — • 

Francisco  gets  the  dagger,  and  forces  Kicardo  down.]  Down  ! — do • 

l^As  he  raises  his  hand  to  strike,  Nicolo  enters. 
■     Mc.  Hold  !   hold  ! 

Fran.   Plead  to  the  wind  ! 

[Raises  his  hand — a  murmur  heard  without.     Bartoi-o  enters,  with 
Lkila  in  his  arms — followed  by  Guests. 

Mar.  [  Without.]  Bark  !  hack  !     Twill  follow  ! 

Fran.  She's  safe  !  Thank  Heaven,  she's  safe  !  Look  to  her !  See, 
she  faints  !  How's  this,  Martelli!  You  look  ashy  pale,  and  thy  closed 
lips  seem  as  they  were  drowning  sounds  of  pain. 

Ri/:.  [To  Mar.]  Thou  art  not  well — let  me  take  the  maid; 

3far.  Thee  I — Never!  Thee! — Never!  She's  mine! — My  own  I 
Bought  with  my  blood  !  I'll  never  leave  her  more  !  Maiden,  a  seat. 
So  ! — She  revives  !  [.\NMKrTE  brint^s  a  seat  forward — Martei.li  puis 
Leila  scntly  in  it — Annette  chafes  her  temple  on  one  side.]  Thou  art 
her  father  1    [Bautolo  rt.Mt«/'i-.]    Good — read  that. 

Gives  letter  to  Baktolo,  who  opens  it. 

Fran.   [Apart.]  What  do  I  see  \ — The  letter  Leila  lost  !     Can  it  be  1 

Mar.    Know'st  thou  the  liand  ? 

Bar    I  do — my  daujhter's  ! 

^[ar.  I  knew  it  !  All  is  confirmed  !  Thy  hand — it  is  thy  son  that 
a.^ks  it ! 

Bar.   Son  \ 

Mar.  Av,  if  there's  truth  in  words — if  the  whole  valley  teem  not 
with  one  lie — lliv  son  ! 

Ric.  J  thank  thee  for  thy  care,  which  hath  been  shown  to  my  affi- 
anced bride. 

2 


26  THE    MINERAL! 

Mar.  Thine  ! 

Ric.  Even  so. 

Mar.  Slie  hath  tivsught  another  mate — ox\o  v  t  i  fo*  yerrr  and  years, 
in  feverish  doubt,  hath  loved  her  !  There — see  there—  to  me  those  Unes 
were  written. 

Fran.   [Apart.'\  I  could  have  borne  auijht  but  this  ! 

Nic.   [Luvkina:  at  letter']  'J'o  thee  !     Thou  errcst. 

Mar.  I  do  not  err.  Years  have  passed  since  we  have  met  before, 
old  man.  But  once  before,  as  now,  with  ebbing  life,  whose  tide  was 
nurtured  by  my  arm,  I  gave  to  thee  thy  child. 

Bar.  You? 
'     Mar    Ay.      Dost  thou    not  remember  when  the  swelling  stream  in 
triumph  bore  her  in  its  ruffled  breast,  a  youth,  noting  your  agony  and 
vain  regrets,  risked  his  own  life  to  save  all  that  did  make  thine  worth 
the  keeping  1 

Bar.   I  do  ;  he  would  not  stay  for  thanks.     If  thou  art  he 

Mar.  I  am — and  now,  as  then,  do  not  wish  to  hear  acknowledg- 
ments for  such  a  deed.  Then — then  it  was  I  first  began  to  love.  I 
loved  in  secret..  In  silence  would  my  passion  have  expired,  but  for  that 
precious  note.  Too  late  I  came  to  see  her  e'er  she  was  betrothed,  yet 
heard  with  rapture  that  I  was  her  choice — her  father  stipulating  only 
one  condition.  It  was — myself,  the  Mineralo,  should  pay  down  three 
thousand  ducats,  as  her  portion.  I  iiave  them — I've  bled  to  bring  it 
safe — 'tis  here — iind  now  I  claim  my  bride. 

Ric.  It  was  not  you  Bartolo  meant. 

3Iar.  Not  me  !  fiend  I  But  see  I  She — she  shall  speak,  and  give 
the  lie  to  thee,  thou  wretched  cheat !      Leila  ! 

Lei.  \^Rising.']  Has  the  storm  cea.?ed  howling  1  How  it  chilled  my 
keart  !  Ha  1  who's  there  !  My  father  I  [•See.?  Ricardo.]  He,  too  ] 
Alas!  who  hath  waked  me  from  a  dream  of  quiet  for  a  change  like 
this  l 

Fran.   Leila  ! 

Lei.  Tliat  voice  !     Francisco  I     Safe — safe  ! 

Fran.  Mv  own — my  constant — my  beloved  !  \^Embrace 

Mar.  Francisco  here  and  known  !  Speak  !  my  blood  is  gushing  te 
my  heart,  and  clogging  the  close  veins — speak  !     The  Mineralo  was — 

Bar.  Francisco  I 

Mar.  \^Fanitly.'\  Help — help!  [The  Guests,  and  among  them,  Fran- 
cisco, cow c  forward  to  sii/ipor/  him — he  motions  Francisco  atcay.^  No, 
no — it  may  be  wrong— I  feel  it  is.  But  thy  hand — touch  that — nevei 
while  I  live— blighted  by  thee — by  one  I've  nurtured 

F'rmi..   Martelli,  hear  me 

Mar.  That  voice  !  Francisco's  voice  !  I  never  wished  its  tones  were 
hushed  till  now. 

F'rnn.   \^  hat  have  I  done.  Martelli? 

Mar.  What  done?  what  done?  waked  me  from  the  dream  that  tied 
my  wounded  heart  to  earth.  Midst  scorn  I  hDped  and  smiled,  and  now, 
when  all  seemed  happiness,  thy  tongue  alone  has  come  to  blight  me, 

Fran.  Thou  art  wrong,  Martelli — I  am,  like  thee,  rejected. 

Mar.  How  !  rejected,  say'st  thou  ? 


THE    MINERALI.  27 

Bar.  Upon  most  stronp  compulsion,  and  on  condition,  did  I  give  my 
pledge — that  unfulfilled,  the  maiden  ne'er  shall  wed  one  of  his  race. 

Mar.  Ha,  ha,  ha  I  he  cannot  he  my  rival,  then.  Come,  Francisco — 
come  to  my  heart. 

[Endeavors  to  move  toicards  Fr.\ncisco,  hut  falls  from  weakness. 

Fran.   iMartelli,  rouse  thee  I 

Mar.  Boy,  'tis  vain — I  had-forgotten  life  is  ebhing  fast. 

hci.  Thou  hast  lost  it  in  preserving  mine  ! 

Mar.  No,  maiden,  no 

hci.  Alas,  ihou  hast!  I  can  but  offer  thee  my  poor  but  earnest 
thanks,  and  add  my  deep  and  fervent  prayers  for  thy  good. 

Mar.  Thy  hand — there's  bliss  in  seeing  thee — in  knowing  I  have 
saved  and  served  thee.  Signor,  thou  wilt  not  wed  thy  daughter  where 
her  heart  can  never  give  its  love. 

Bar.  Unless  he  have  the  right  to  claim  her,  never  shall  he  call  her 
bride. 

Mar.  [To  Fr.\n.]  Why  didst  thou  hide  thy  state  from  me,  it  was  no( 
well. 

Fran.  Alas  !   I  own  'twas  not. 

Jilar.  I  had,  thou  knowcst,  grown  rich  with  search — had  you  but 
begtrcd  a  loan,  I  should  have  guessed 

Fran.   I  sent,  and  thouglit  thou  hadst  refused  me 

Mar.  Refused  thee  1  No,  hoy,  no — thou  should'st  have  had  it  all, 
had  I  but  known — but  now  'tis  worse  than  vain  to  speak  of  that.  Thy 
message  never  reached  me.  Hold — support  me — there — there — the  belt 
— 'tis  there — 'twill  yield  the  sum,  even  were  it  doubled. — Leila,  thine 
hand — Francisco,  thine — old  man — quick,  quick — a  word — a  look — let 
me  but  hear  that  she  is  his. 

Bar,   She  is. 

Mar.  Ha,  ha,  ha!  I  did  not  toil — I  do  not  lie  in  vain.  Forgive  my 
wrath.  Francisco. 

Fran.  All — all.  Thy  kindness  rushes  to  my  heart,  and  chokes  my 
utterance 

Mar.  Think  of  it  when  I  am  gone.  The  steep — thou  knowest  it — 
where  first  I  met  thee,  Leila — let  me  rest  there.  Heaven  bless  ye  both  I 
Francisco  !  I  have  given  thee  thy  bride — my  life  1 [Dies, 

Disposition  of  the  Characters  at  the  Fall  of  the  Curtain: 

Guests.  Guests 

NicoLO.  Bartolo. 

RiCARDo.  Leila.         Mar.telli.         Francisco.  Pif.tro. 


THE    END. 


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UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

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